


Of Shadows and Sunshine

by onepageatatime715



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, MAAS Sarah J. - Works
Genre: ACOTAR - Freeform, ACOWAR, Angst, Blossoming relationship, Elriel, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Love, Nessian - Freeform, New Relationship, PostACOWAR, Rape/Non-con Elements, SO MUCH FLUFF, acomaf, feysand, sarahjmaas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-11-28 08:39:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11414256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onepageatatime715/pseuds/onepageatatime715
Summary: This fan fiction (length tbd) will explore Azriel and Elain’s relationship after the events of ACOWAR.May feature spoilers for ACOWAR.All characters and names belong to Sarah J Maas.





	1. Of Shadows and Sunshine

The afternoon after the festivities to celebrate the end of the war against Hybern, Elain found herself in the garden behind the townhouse, tending to it as she had done before … well, everything. Someone – she suspected a certain Illyrian warrior – had left a wide brimmed sun hat by the door to the garden, and Elain had gratefully donned it.

               She was glad for the silence – for the solitude. Last night, celebrating with the Night Court’s Inner Circle, had been fun, but it had also been overwhelming to her senses. She still had to work to separate reality from her visions, and it was all easier in the peace of the garden.

               The weeds she was carefully teasing from the dark soil were real.

               The flitting visions of a fae in the shadows was not, at this moment, real.

               Elain loosed a breath, focusing to shut out the visions. More and more, she found that she could. Once, believing herself consumed by insanity, she’d fallen so deep into the vision she’d forgotten reality existed. Forgotten to live.

               Until Azriel told her what she was.

               Until he informed her that she wasn’t insane – she was just a Seer.

               She’d asked Amren about it, briefly. Seers, apparently, were exceptionally rare, and coveted by their Courts. Outside of one’s own Court, it was likely that no one else would know the Seer for what they were.

               And seeing as there was currently no other known Seer in the Night Court, Elain was alone with her visions.

               Elain continued to work on the garden, which had grown wild far more rapidly than she would have expected during their time on the front, as the afternoon shadows lengthened, careful not to look to closely at them.

               Not yet.

               She hummed as she bustled about, weeding and pruning as needed, until finally –

               “I know you’re there,” she murmured, knowing he would hear her.

               And so Azriel stepped out of the shadows, a bemused smile on his face, and a stunning pot of blue flowers in his scarred hands. So blue, in fact, they almost perfectly matched his siphons.

               “And how, might I ask, did I give myself away?”

               Elain waved her hand at him as she went back to weeding. “You gave yourself away hours ago.”

               “Hours – ahhh,” Azriel stuttered slightly. “You knew as soon as I bought you the flowers, then?”

               Elain murmured her agreement, now sifting through the dirt patch she’d cleared for said flowers – also prepared before Azriel’s arrival.

               “There really is no surprising you, then,” Azriel replied softly.

               “I don’t know what kind of flower they are,” Elain offered kindly, turning to face the Illyrian warrior behind her. He wasn’t clad in his leathers – just a soft black cotton shirt and leather pants with a dark belt. And his wings were still bandaged and healing, the marks on them evidence of her rescue.

               “Rhys’s mother used to call them larkspur – they come in a whole bunch of different shades of purple and blue, but – “

               “These ones match you,” Elain observed casually, smiling softly when Azriel flushed.

               “Well, yes, I suppose, but they’re also the perfect colour for a Night Court garden, don’t you think?”

               “Of course I do,” Elain replied, holding out her hand for the plant, and Azriel softly transferred the plant to her, watching carefully as she set to work planting it. As she did so, Elain inspected it more closely, noting its varying hues of blue, and even purple within the heart of the spur shaped flower.

               “It really is beautiful, Azriel,” Elain murmured when she was done, standing to dust off her hands.

               “I, yes,” Azriel stuttered. “Anyways, Feyre and Rhys are, uh, indisposed, Amren is being morose about this whole food nonsense, and Cassian won’t leave the house until Nesta…”

               “Until she either lets him in or leaves,” Elain finished. “I heard them, earlier, banging about and shouting.”

               Azriel pinched the bridge of his nose, a pained expression on his face.

               “And Mor?”

               Azriel looked up, his expression still pained, and he just shrugged.

               Elain waited, the silence lengthening, though not uncomfortably.

               “Would you like to have dinner with me?” Azriel asked at last, the words coming out somewhat rushed.

               Elain smiled softly.

               “You know, you can still surprise me,” she replied, “You just have to act quickly once the decision is made.”

               “Is that a yes?”

               “Yes.”  


	2. Of Despair and Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azriel makes Elain dinner, and they discuss Elain's future with Lucien.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fan fiction (length tbd) will explore Azriel and Elain’s relationship after the events of ACOWAR. 
> 
> May feature spoilers for ACOWAR. 
> 
> All characters and names belong to Sarah J Maas.

Elain leaned back, her stomach pleasantly swollen from the meal, and groaned slightly. Azriel, from where he was in the kitchen, laughed quietly at the sound, and Elain glowered in his direction. Males. Azriel had eaten at least twice what she had, and he didn’t seem any fuller – of bloated – for it.

               “I didn’t know you could cook,” she called out softly, trusting that his heightened sense of hearing would catch her voice.

               “Someone had to,” Azriel replied as he re-entered the room, two refilled glasses of wine in his hands, his voice equally soft. “Cassian and Rhys are abysmal at it, and I am not a huge fan of starving or of burnt attempts at food.”

               Azriel gently passed Elain’s wine glass back to her, his scarred hands rough against hers as the skin brushed together.

               Elain sipped at her wine, “I see.”

               Azriel shrugged, then drank from his own glass, leaning back in his chair, then kicking his sock-clad feet up onto the table. Elain squeaked slightly at the sight, and a laugh rumbled out of Azriel.

               “Don’t tell Rhys,” he chuckled.

               “When will they – you know…?” Elain gestured upstairs, feeling the growing flush on her cheeks. Azriel studied her face briefly, then shrugged ever so slightly.

               “It’s hard to say,” he replied. “Some fae spend weeks secluded with their mates once they’re accepted the bond. With everything that happened, Feyre and Rhys had so little time to adjust to the mating bond properly, and now, after Rhys’s death, I doubt it will be any easier for them to leave one another.”

               “So it’s the mating bond then? That makes them…” again Elain gestured, and Azriel smiled, his eyes understanding. He knew, somehow, what she was asking.

               “Feyre and Rhys were dancing around one another long before Feyre knew about the mating bond,” Azriel answered. “And our High Lord was in love with your sister the moment he laid eyes on her – or so I’ve heard. Before she was even Fae.”

               Elain sighed, setting down her wine glass with a resounding thud.

               “I just don’t understand. How they can have that, and how the same bond can link Lucien and I,” Elain sighed, before burrowing her head in her hands. Azriel was by her side in an instant, his hands raising her chin to force her gaze to meet his own.

               “The bond doesn’t always mean that’s what’s right, Elain,” he murmured, his gaze searching her face, mapping her distress. “Feyre and Rhys aren’t the rule. What you and Lucien have – or don’t have – is entirely up to you.”

               “But Lucien – “

               “Will understand if you reject the mating bond.”

               “What if he won’t?”

               Azriel tensed ever so slightly, as if imagining the same rage Elain pictured whenever she imagined telling Lucien she couldn’t accept the mating bond. The same rage and anger and sadness she saw flickering in her visions whenever she came close to decision about the bond to the red-haired fox. 

               “He’ll never hurt you, Elain. I promise,” Azriel vowed solemnly before pulling her into a hug, his arms wrapping tightly around her. Elain pressed her face into the crook of his neck, her unsteady breaths calming as she breathed in the scent of him. As she allowed herself to be comforted.

               Elain was still in Azriel’s arms when Cassian stomped in, his face pinched with frustrating, his hands in the air.

               “She _still_ won’t talk to – oh,” Cassian stopped dead in his tracked when he saw Azriel and Elain. They quickly slipped apart, Elain finding her wine glass for good measure.

Cassian quirked a playful smile. “Is Azriel really that good of a cook?”

Elain smiled into her glass as Azriel growled at his friend softly.

“Maybe you could get Nesta out of her room with some food?” Elain suggested somewhat cheekily. Azriel turned back to her and cocked his head slightly, as if unsure about what she was getting at. Elain smiled softly and sipped at her wine, certain her facial expression revealed nothing.

She’d liked how he’d growled at Cassian.

Then he turned back to his friend, though his words were for Elain. “I don’t think we need to subject Nesta to Cassian’s idea of cooking.”

“Chocolate might cut it, then,” Elain mused, her voice somewhat playful. Azriel cast her an appreciative glance, while Cassian grinned thankfully.

“Chocolate, that I _can_ manage,” he agreed, sweeping out of the room as quickly as he’d entered it, his still healing wings tucked tightly against his back.

Azriel turned back to Elain, his eyebrow quirked with a question. Elain just shrugged.

“If anyone can get Nesta out of that room, it’s going to be him, and you know it,” Elain replied steadily.

Azriel nodded slowly, though his face still held that unspoken question – _Did she know?_

Elain nodded.

“What I said earlier stands in their case too, you know - The bond doesn’t always mean that’s what’s right…”

“It does for them,” Elain said shortly. “It does for so many – but not me and Lucien.”

Azriel went deathly still, his attention catching on the finality of her tone – a finality that hadn’t been there before.

“You’ll reject the bond?”

Elain sighed. “I can’t accept it, Azriel. I could never bear to tie myself so inextricably from a man I could never love. Not the way he would want me to.”

She knew he here the waver in her voice, the little hitch that betrayed her.

Azriel reached out and pulled her close again, his rough hands gentle against her side as he did so.

“He’ll never hurt you, Elain. I promise,” Azriel vowed again, his voice just as solemn as before, his eyes burning with a certain ferocity as he said the words.

Fae males – so protective. And yet, Elain knew he wouldn’t smother her, so she looked up to meet his gaze as she asked the next question.

“I know you would protect me –“

“We all would, Elain.”

“Yes, I know,” Elain smiled softly. “But I am tired of relying on others to protect me – of being useless.”

“You’re far more than useless,” Azriel countered, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“I couldn’t protect myself against Lucien, or any trained Fae who saw me coming. You know that,” Elain replied, her voice equally quiet, though not weak.

Azriel sighed.

“I shouldn’t be the one to train you,” Azriel whispered, seemingly more to himself than Elain. Elain raised her own eyebrows, the question etched on her face. “Lucien is already ill at ease with our friendship. Training with you – my scent would be all over you, Elain, the next time her saw you.”

“Would that put you in danger?”

“No more than it would put you in danger,” Azriel sighed.

“Than I don’t see why you can’t train me,” Elain argued, cutting Azriel off as he opened his mouth to object. “After all, I don’t mind having your scent all over me.”

That statement cut off any argument Azriel had been mustering, and Elain could have sworn she saw something akin to the look Feyre had described as “male satisfaction” on his face before he turned away to refill their wine glasses.


	3. Of Rage and Consequence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Elain is surprised by and unexpected visitor, and things do not go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fan fiction (length tbd) will explore Azriel and Elain’s relationship after the events of ACOWAR. 
> 
> May feature spoilers for ACOWAR. 
> 
> All characters and names belong to Sarah J Maas.

Since their dinner, Elain and Azriel had danced a careful dance around one another.

Azriel, for his part, was busy – despite the end of the war, there was still much to be done, and with Rhys still healing, Azriel and Cassian picked up what slack they could.

And yet, despite Azriel’s work, he had found time to train Elain nearly every day. At first, Elain had felt weak, and timid. But as the days lengthened into weeks, she could feel her muscles strengthening, could feel her body remembering the defence maneuvers he had drilled into her.

And Elain – she filled her time tending the gardens around the townhouse, and practising what Azriel had taught her.

This morning the townhouse in question was quiet – Rhys and Feyre had been gone for several days, attending some meeting or another. Amren was rarely around the townhouse anymore, unless asked to be – she was typically either busy helping with the repairs of Velaris, or off visiting Varian in Summer. Meanwhile, Cassian had finally lured Nesta out of her bedroom (or rather, she’d stormed out after him, and the two had since spent the better part of their days out of the townhouse), and Azriel has accompanied Mor to the Court of Nightmares, promising another training session that afternoon.  

So Elain found herself, dressed in a pair of tight-fitted leggings and a loose cotton shirt Feyre had left in her room weeks ago when she’d first caught wind of Elain’s desire to train, waiting for the shadowsinger. She meandered about the house, tidying what she could as a way to distract herself from the vision(which was very little – Nuala and Cerridwen were far too good at their jobs), until she heard Azriel’s knock at the door.

Elain threw the door open, and found herself face to face with Lucien.

               “Elain.”

               His voice sounded breathless – and hopeful.

               “Lucien,” Elain choked out. “What – why are you here?”

               Lucien surged forward, stepping into the house, a smile plastered on his handsome face. “I had to see you. It’s been weeks, Elain. And I know – you said you’d send word, but I just couldn’t stand it anymore.”

               Elain backed further into the sitting room, leaving the front door ajar behind Lucien as he followed her into the house.

               “But your work –“

               “It can wait,” Lucien said, his voice firm. “Can’t you feel it, Elain? The bond – it pulls me towards you so incessantly.”

               Elain could feel it – the tug in her chest, every day, that reminded her of the red-haired fox before her. Reminded her of what she had to do.

               “Lucien,” Elain began softly.

               “You don’t have to accept now,” Lucien interrupted. “But I thought maybe we could go out, have lunch –“

               “No.”

               Lucien’s focus went sharp, his eyes trained on Elain with a near feline intensity, and his nostrils flared every so slightly –

               “Why do you smell like _him_?” Lucien growled.

               Azriel.

               “He’s been training me,” Elain explained. “In self-defense.”

               Lucien didn’t drop his hackles; Elain could practically feel the aggression and possessiveness rolling off him in waves.

               “Anyways, I’m meant to be meeting him now – to train. So we’ll have to save that lunch for another day,” Elain said airily, making to sweep by him.

               Lucien hand shot out, latching itself around her wrist.

               “No.”

               Elain took a deep breath. “Lucien, let me go.”

               “Has he touched you.” Lucien’s words came out as a growl.

               Elain opened her mouth to say no, but Azriel’s fleeting touches – when he’d held her at dinner, how his hands would brush against her during training, the way his breath would trickle her neck when they flew – flashed through her mind, and she flushed slightly.

               Lucien snarled, and his grip on her wrist tightened, becoming painful.

               Elain cried out, and as if summoned by her distress, Azriel stepped out of the shadows.

               His face was a mask of cold fury, his eyes sparkling with a barely contained rage that his flashing siphons gave away in a heartbeat.

               “Let her go,” Azriel ordered, his voice frozen with rage. Yet, as his eyes met Elain’s, she saw the command there – saw him quietly begging her to twist her arm free while Lucien was distracted by his appearance.

               Elain did as they’d practiced, bringing her trapped wrist up and slamming into it with her free hand as she twisted her waist away, spinning out of his hold. In a heartbeat, Azriel had her behind him, his face mere inches from Lucien’s as he snarled in the male’s face, his wings flared behind him.

               Lucien was equally livid, the growl emanating from his chest one of pure rage to match the shadowsinger’s.

               “You bastard,” Lucien growled. “She’s _mine_.”

               “She belongs to only herself,” Azriel snarled back, his siphons flaring dangerously. Lucien made out as if to hit Azriel, but quickly found himself pinned to the wall behind him, a snarling shadowsinger in his face.

               “I am going to put you down,” Azriel growled. “And then you are going to walk out that door and you will not return unless you are invited. Do I make myself clear?”

               Lucien snarled in response, and Azriel dropped him.

               “You’re dead, shadowsinger,” Lucien growled before sweeping out of the room without so much as a glance at Elain.

               The door slammed behind him as he left.

               Azriel immediately turned to Elain, who had sunk to the ground, her knees hitting the carpet with a resounding thud. She looked at her hands, willing them to be still, to stop shaking, to stop betraying the fear that even now was still coursing through her veins.

               Azriel dropped to the floor before her, his wings coming forward to form a cocoon around them as his own hands gently circled Elain’s, his thumb brushing against the bruises already forming on her wrist.

               “I am so sorry Elain,” Azriel murmured, his voice lined with sadness, all trace of his earlier rage having vanished with the red-haired fox. “I promised he would never hurt you; I should have been here sooner.”

               Elain tilted her head up to meet Azriel’s gaze. “You did more than enough Azriel; you reminded me I could be strong enough to save myself.”

               Azriel bowed his forehead the hers, his wings pushing her closer to him as he massaged her wrist.

               “Nuala and Cerridwen found me almost as soon as I landed in Velaris; I didn’t even wait to hear what was wrong, I just winnowed here as quickly as I could, and I was terrified when I found the door open,” Azriel confessed, his voice wavering slightly. “Then I heard his voice, and I heard you ask him to let you go. So I waited. But then he hurt you, and I couldn’t help myself.”

               Elain moved even closer to the shadowsinger, tucking herself against his chest as he talked.

               “I wanted to kill him for hurting you, Elain,” Azriel admitted, his voice laced with a hidden fury. “He doesn’t deserve you, could never deserve you, if he treats you that way.”

               “I was so scared,” Elain admitted. “When he grabbed my wrist, I could barely think; I felt trapped in a way I have not felt since – since Hybern shoved me into the Cauldron. You reminded me that I am stronger than that.”

               Elain tipped her head up to Azriel’s, her lips grazing his jaw as she did so. Azriel stilled at the touch – Elain wondered if he was even breathing as he lowered his face to hers, their lips mere inches apart.

               “Elain…” Azriel began.

               “Shhh.”

               Elain pressed her lips to Azriel’s softly, and he pressed back, his kiss gentle yet passionate as his one hand slid up her back to cup her face, the other resting on the small of her back as he pulled her against him, deepening their kiss. Elain moaned softly into the kiss, even her visions fading away as she lost herself to the feel and taste of him.

               Which was how Cassian, Nesta and Mor found them when the burst into the house moments later, clearly expecting a fight.


	4. Of Moonlight and Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Inner Circle discusses Elain's safety, and Azriel makes a promise to Elain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fan fiction (length tbd) will explore Azriel and Elain’s relationship after the events of ACOWAR. 
> 
> May feature spoilers for ACOWAR. 
> 
> All characters and names belong to Sarah J Maas.

**Chapter 4: Of Moonlight and Stars**

               Elain was wrapped up in a blanket on the couch in the sitting room, a steaming mug of tea in her hand, watching her sisters bicker with their mates, Mor, and Amren. Azriel sat silently by her side, a solid presence in her churning thoughts, as he had been since he’d thrown Lucien out of the townhouse.

               Cassian, Nesta and Mor had burst in, Cassian flaring his wings as he stormed the sitting room, only to grind to a halt when he saw Azriel and Elain tangled up in each other’s arms, Azriel’s wings cocooned protectively around Elain. Azriel had been distracted enough that he’d snarled viciously at his brother as he protectively positioned Elain behind him.

               Needless to say, Nesta hadn’t taken that well, and things had dissolved pretty quickly – though not before Cassian got a couple sly remarks, asking if Elain had seen _that_ coming.

               It also appeared that, upon hearing Nuala and Cerridwen’s hurried explanation, Mor had chosen to summon Rhys, Feyre and Amren. And so, a short time later, the entire Inner Circle was crammed in the sitting room bickering as Elain and Azriel watched.

               “Amren and I canvased the entire city – his scent is still lingering around the townhouse, but he’s gone,” Mor repeated, her voice bordering on exasperated. Beside her, Amren nodded.

               “Pardon my concern – Amren isn’t what she once was –“ Cassian began.

               “I can still take you, runt,” Amren growled, stepping towards the Illyrian. Cassian, at least, had the good sense to back down from the look in her eyes.

               “He’s gone,” Mor repeated.

               “Good riddance,” Nesta growled. “And he won’t be able to get back in?”

               “Absolutely not,” Rhys replied steadily. “Not unless he’s invited –“

               “He won’t be,” Nesta growled.

               “That’s for Elain to decide,” Feyre growled firmly, ignoring the flashing look of rage that slipped in and out of her sister’s eyes. Cassian pulled Nesta close – whether to temper her rage or protect his High Lady, Elain wasn’t sure.

               “No matter – we simply can’t leave Elain alone,” Nesta grumbled. “At least not until Lucien decides to see reason.”

               “Elain can defend herself,” Azriel cut in, his voice soft yet firm. All eyes in the room turned towards them, and Elain forced herself not to look away.

               “I – I can. Azriel’s been training me,” Elain said.

               “I’m sure he has,” Cassian muttered, earning him a punch from Nesta, at which he grinned ruefully.

               “I can protect myself,” Elain pressed firmly. “I don’t need a guard in the house, or out in the garden.”

               Feyre moved through the room to sit beside Elain, concern and understanding warring on her face.

               “I understand, Elain,” Feyre said. “About not wanting guards – I – I’ve been smothered by them before, and I would never want you to feel like a prisoner in this house, or in our Court. But I do want you to be safe.”

               Rhys had come up behind Feyre, his hand gripping her shoulder gently as she mentioned that time in the Spring Court – a time, Elain knew, that had been horrific for her and her mate.

               “I know, and I will be safe here – I don’t think Lucien will come back without my asking, and the townhouse will be perfectly safe as long as I don’t accidentally invite him in again,” Elain reasoned slowly, encouraged by Rhys and Feyre’s nodding. “And if – when – I go out, I’ll make sure someone knows where I’m going, or I’ll take someone with me.”

               Azriel leaned against Elain, his arm brushing hers as he did so, and Elain leaned back appreciatively, waiting for someone to answer.

               Rhys nodded, “That sounds reasonable.”

Feyre stood and leaned back into her mate, her face contemplative, but she remained silent.

“Thank-you,” Elain replied quietly.

She hadn’t meant it to sound as such, but Elain’s voice had a certain finality to it – a dismissal. And slowly, all of the collected members of the Inner Circle found a reason to be someplace else, until only Elain and Azriel remained.

Azriel gathered Elain against him, and She tucked her legs up on the couch, tucking herself into the crook of his arm as his wing opened to cocoon her. As his arms tightened around her, she knew he could feel her shaking ever so slightly.

“Elain,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.

But Elain was lost in her mind, visions of Lucien’s wrath flitting through her mind, the pain in her wrist blurring the line between her imagination and the truth of her visions until she felt like the was drowning in the same insanity Azriel had once pulled her from.

“Elain,” Azriel repeated, his voice piercing the dull haze of grey noise in her ears.

He pulled her closer still, his voice firmer, louder as he repeated himself again, “Elain.”

Elain looked up at last, his gaze slowly pulling her out of her own mind. She could see the fear and concern on his face.

“Elain,” he whispered again, something like relief in his voice as he saw her returning to herself. “Tell me how to help you.”

Elain shook her head, unsure what to tell him.

How could she tell this male beside her, who was holding her with such tenderness, that she was drowning in a grief she had never known? To have lost a mate before she even had him was a blow she had not expected; just as she had not expected his rage, his reluctance to let her go.

How could she tell Azriel that her heart felt like it was breaking, when he was trying so hard to hold her together?

He seemed to see the emotions warring inside her, and rather than press her, scooped her up, eliciting a small yelp from Elain.

“May I take you somewhere?”

Elain nodded, and Azriel swept them out of the house, his wings spreading to fly them up to the mountains as soon as they reached the threshold. Elain clung to him even more tightly as they shot into the night, a blur against the night as they rocketed towards the bluffs. Azriel slowed as they neared an outcropping, setting Elain down gently before landing beside her and tucking his wings in.

Elain pressed herself as far back as she could get from the edge, even while Azriel sat and dangled his legs over the edge.

“I won’t let you fall,” he called over his shoulder, his voice luring her to the edge, when she ever so carefully lowered herself down to sit beside him. And gazed out at the growing expanse of stars glittering before them as dusk deepened into night.

They sat in amicable silence for several minutes until –

“I come up here when I need to think. Or when I need space,” Azriel explained, his voice soft. “I sit here, and I look out at the stars, and the moon, and I bathe in the silence and the stillness of the night.”

Elain nodded, knowing he was watching her out of the corner of his eye, and at last she answered his question.

“I don’t know how to feel,” Elain said. “Everyone seems to think that I ought to be mad, or that I ought to hate him, but… I just feel sad. Like I’ve lost yet another opportunity at happiness. Like maybe, after Grayson, and now Lucien, I don’t deserve that same happiness everyone else has.”

Azriel turned the full power of his gaze on her, his voice sure. “No one can tell you how to feel, Elain. They have not been in your position; they cannot empathize with the pain of turning away a mate. So if you feel sadness, or grief, let yourself feel it. Don’t hide yourself away from it.”

And then. “Please don’t hide yourself away from me.”

Elain turned to meet Azriel’s gaze, to face the intensity of the emotion written so clearly on his normally inscrutable face. And raised her hand to brush his cheek gently.

“I’ll try Azriel, I will,” Elain replied softly. “I just, I need time to figure this thing out – but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to try this – whatever this could be – with you. I just need time.”

Azriel smiled slowly, and turned to face the stars again, his face almost completely shadowed by the depth of the night.

“I don’t mind waiting for you, love.”

 

 


	5. Of Beginnings and Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Scenes of Non-Consent/Violence. 
> 
> Elain, feeling recovered enough from her encounter with Lucien, ventures into Velaris, only to come face to face with a foe far more dangerous than she had anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fan fiction (length tbd) will explore Azriel and Elain’s relationship after the events of ACOWAR. 
> 
> May feature spoilers for ACOWAR. 
> 
> All characters and names belong to Sarah J Maas.

 

               In the days that followed Lucien’s destructive visit, Elain stayed close to the town house, preferring the solitude of the garden to the hovering presence of her sisters and their mates. Azriel, at least, was true to his word, giving her the space and time she needed to sort through the raging emotions within her.

               He was never far from her thoughts though, his lingering scent and his small offerings – picked flowers, books, and even tea – reminding her that the shadowsinger was nearby.

               Finally, as the bruises on her wrist faded, Elain decided that it was time to leave the town house at last. She let Nesta and Cassian know – as promised – that she was going out to get things for her garden, and despite the hesitant looks of concern on their face, they let her go.

               The streets of Velaris were filled with the laughter of children and bustling with action as its residents went about their daily routines and work. Elain carefully made her way to a little flower shop she had seen on several occasions, mapping the route in her head as she wound her way through the streets.

               But as a vision of an oddly familiar male bursting out of a pub flashed through her mind, Elain began to realize that despite her best efforts she had, in fact, become rather lost; and not in the most welcoming alley in Velaris. She wondered how long it would take for her friends to send a search party out after her.

               She was just beginning to get herself turned around when a pub door up the alley burst open, and a rather drunk – and familiar – fae male burst out. Red hair, pale skin, and a growing smirk as he regarded Elain, frozen in the alley, eyes wide as she took in his appearance. As he drew nearer.

               “Look who it is,” the male crowed softly, his smile predatory.

               He was Lucien, but he was not. His features so familiar, yet distorted.

               “My brother’s pretty little mate.”

               Eris.

               “What are you doing here,” Elain croaked, backing away. Eris grinned.

               “Since your darling High Lord granted Keir’s Court access to Velaris, I was invited by some of his Lords. It seems, however, that I can’t get anyone to serve me a drink, and my flask is empty,” Eris crooned, drawing ever nearer. “I was just heading home – care to join me? I know a certain brother who would be delighted to see you.”

               Had Lucien really slunk back to the Autumn Court?

               “I have to meet someone,” Elain replied, her voice far firmer than she had anticipated. “For lunch. They’ll be waiting for me.”

               Eris’ smirk grew, as if he could scent her bluff.

               Elain backed further down the alley, unwilling to allow him to close. Afraid of what he might do if he could get his hands on her.

               “Goodbye, Eris,” Elain growled, backing out the alley.

               But not fast enough; as Eris’ hand closed around her fading bruises, they vanished into wind and smoke, leaving the streets of Velaris behind.

 ~~~

               Elain noticed the cold right away – the brisk, crisp cold of an Autumn day, laced with the scent of loam and rotting things. Around her, the world was a latticework of red and gold and brown and green, the trees thick and old, the mossy ground strewn with rocks and boulders that cast long shadows. Beneath her feet, the ground was lined with thick moss and stone and leaves.

               And before them rose a mansion – beautiful despite the decay and destruction that had clearly befallen it during Amarantha’s reign – tucked into the beauty of the forest around it.

               And Eris’ hand was still clamped tightly around her aching wrist.

               Without a second thought, Elain twisted free, snarling in Eris’ face as she did so, an unfamiliar rage and wrath rising in her chest.

               Eris slapped her across the face, sending her to her knees. Around her, leaves fluttered to the ground.

               “Do not,” Eris growled, and his foot pushed her into the ground. “Presume that you will receive any special treatment from me because of who you are to my brother.”

               Elain merely snarled up at him, a picture of defiance.

               Eris dragged her to her feet, his own snarl mere inches from her face, as he began pulling her towards whatever waited inside, unyielding as the eternal Autumn of his Court.

               And then, as an after thought -

               “I destroyed the last female Lucien loved.”

 ~~~

               They burst into the Throne Room, Eris dragging her towards his father, Beron, and Lucien, who had his back turned to them as they entered. Elain nearly sobbed with relief – surely, surely, Lucien wouldn’t allow them to hurt her, no matter what had transpired between them.

               As he turned, Elain saw fear flash across his scarred face.

               “Brother, look what I brought you!”

               Eris grinned savagely at Lucien, pulling Elain in front of him.

               “What a pleasant coincidence, that I stumble upon your darling mate, lost in the depths of the Night Court, just as you’re here fulfilling your duties as Ambassador,” Eris drawled.

               Lucien’s face was a blank, careful mask as he regarded them.

               “Let her go,” his growl was so low Elain nearly missed it.

Eris grinned.

               “Are you saying you don’t want her? In that case, perhaps she and I could play,” Eris replied, his voice sultry as he pulled Elain closer, his hands touching her in places no male had any right to touch her. Tracing seductive patterns on her arms as he gripped her waist. Slipping under the hem of her shirt to paw at bare skin.

Elain snarled, stomping on his foot and writhing away, only to have him snatch her back, his grip tighter now.

               “Not so fast,” Eris growled in her ear. Elain struggled, but his hold was too tight.

               Beron had been watching the entire exchange with a bemused expression on his face, but now he waved his hand, appearing almost bored.

               “Get on with it, Eris.”

               “May I have her, Lucien, since you clearly don’t want some Illyrian bastard’s leftovers?” Eris crowed. As he spoke, his hand snaked further up her shirt, grasping her breast heard enough to bruise and he licked up the column of her neck, his eyes fixed on his brother’s face.               

               Elain whimpered.

               Lucien exploded at the sound, launching himself at his brother, shoving Elain out of the way roughly as he pummelled Eris into the ground, his scarred face a snarling mass of rage.

               “Do. Not. Touch. Her,” Lucien snarled.

               Then, to Elain, “Run.”

               Elain didn’t hesitate – she fled the hall, fled the mansion, leaving the sentries without time to react as she all but flew from the mansion, her Fae speed propelling her forward at speeds a human could never run. Her feet flew over the leaves and moss, pushing her further away from Eris, Beron, Lucien – right into a firm, solid form before her.

               Elain screamed, rearing back the lash out at her attacker as Azriel had taught her, only to have her punch caught by a gloved fist. Adorned with a flaring blue siphon.

               Elain looked up into Azriel’s eyes, then wrapped herself around him, a sob finally escaping her.

               “He just grabbed me,” she sobbed. “One minute, we were in Velaris, and then the next…”

               Azriel ran a hand through her hair pulling her closer, his touch tender despite the snarl that ripped from his throat.

               Elain turned to see a bloodied Eris approaching, Lucien hot on his heels.

               And did not hesitate as she lunged forward and punched his smug face directly in the nose.

               Eris howled as he clutched his face, at the blood now pouring from his nose.

               “You bitch!”

               Elain snarled back at him, ignoring Lucien and Azriel, who had now positioned themselves on either side of her, seemingly united against a common enemy.

               Elain wondered which one of them had more cause to destroy Eris.

               “Stay away from me,” Elain growled. “And do not ever touch me again.”

               Azriel growled at that, at what her words implied. Lucien stepped away from her – toward his brother, who was now glaring up at them with unrestrained hatred.

               “Take her home, Azriel,” Lucien murmured, his attention focused wholly on his brother.

               She heard the defeat there.

               Azriel only nodded, turning to Elain, his arms open – and she stepped into them. Then they were in the sky, leaving the vibrant hues of Autumn behind as Azriel flew.

               Azriel held her close, his arms firm around her as he flew. As he searched her for signs of physical harm.

               Elain knew he couldn’t see what she felt – couldn’t feel where Eris’ hands had touched her, how he had violated her. She shuddered, a sob wracking her body. Azriel clutched her closer, a growl rumbling in his chest as he forced his words out.

               “What did he do to you,” Azriel ground out. Elain merely pressed herself against the shadowsinger, savouring his warmth as she sobbed.

 

               Azriel landed in Velaris some time later – but not at the town house. Wherever he had taken her, it was not to that house, full of concern and pressure and rage. Instead, he led her into a quiet town house, smaller than Rhys’, and more barren as well. Less lavish.

               His home.

               Azriel set Elain down on the couch with a heartbreaking gentleness and knelt before her, his face full of concern.

               “Tell me what to do.”

               “I – I need a bath,” Elain croaked, her throat raw from crying. Azriel nodded, vanishing form the room. Down the hall, Elain heard a tap gurgle to life as water splashed into a tub. Azriel returned, a hand out to guide her to the waiting bath.

               “Everything you need is in there,” Azriel murmured. “I’ll be out here – if you need me.”

               Elain nodded and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She did not lock it.

               She dropped her clothes unceremoniously on the ground, shuddering at the smell that still clung to them – of Eris, and of rotten things – and stepped into the waiting water. She sighed at the heat of it, and set to work scrubbing herself clean.

               And scrubbed.

               And scrubbed.

               Elain sobbed as she scrubbed, certain the scent of him, the feel of him, was still lingering on her, even as she scrubbed her skin raw to the point of bleeding.

               And Azriel, scenting the blood from his vigil in the hallway, burst in, his eyes wild with concern. And as his gaze settled in Elain, her arms scrubbed raw, his face settled into on of concern.

               “Elain,” he pressed, gently taking the sponge from her and setting it on the ground. Then he grabbed a towel and scooped her up, careful to cover her nakedness as he did so – careful to avoid touching her.

               But not before he glimpsed the bruises on her chest.

               And Azriel knew with a cold certainty why she was scrubbing her arms raw, why she was sobbing quietly in his arms, long after she had run out of tears to cry.

               Azriel set her on his bed, then moved to find a spare shirt – anything – for her to wear. She donned his too big shirt without a word. Let him bandage her arms with a careful, practiced gentleness. Then stepped away, giving her the space he knew she needed.

               Watched as she stared vacantly ahead, her expression unreadable.

               “You can sleep here tonight,” he said at last. “If you want.”

               Elain merely nodded, and moved to lay down.

               Azriel turned to leave, and was nearly at the door when Elain’s voice stopped him.

               “Please stay.”

               Her voice was a small thing, and Azriel could not refuse her. He never had been able to.

So he perched himself on the end of the bed, his focus entirely on Elain as she slipped beneath the covers, and laid her head on his pillow. As she made a decision.

              “Azriel?”

              “Elain?”

              “Would you lie with me?”

              And so Azriel laid out on the bed beside Elain, careful to leave room between them, despite the wings.


	6. Of Nightmares and Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Elain is terrorized by a nightmare of what could have happened in Autumn, and wakes to find Azriel there to comfort her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fan fiction (length tbd) will explore Azriel and Elain’s relationship after the events of ACOWAR. 
> 
> May feature spoilers for ACOWAR. 
> 
> All characters and names belong to Sarah J Maas.

_Elain was running through the Autumn forest, her feet sending leaves flying as she charged away from the room, from Eris, from the danger behind her… Her Fae speed propelled her forward at speeds a human could never run. Her feet flew over the leaves and moss, pushed her further away from Eris, Beron, Lucien – right into a firm, solid form before her._

_Elain screamed, rearing back the lash out at her attacker as Azriel had taught her, only to have her punch caught by a gloved fist, her arm wrenched behind her back._

_And his scent hit her – somehow, impossibly, Eris had gotten ahead of her, had caught her._

_And from the rage roiling off him, she knew he had no intention of letting her escape._

_Sentries dragged a bloodied Lucien forward, forcing him to his knees. Forcing him to watch as Eris once again began his casual perusal of Elain’s body. Elain squirmed, fighting against him with all her might, but his arms were bands of steel._

_Elain screamed, pleading for help._

“Elain.”

_She begged even as he ripped her shirt clean off, baring her to all the Fae in the clearing._

_Elain sobbed, pleading for him to stop._

“Elain!”

_Even as he forced her to the ground, drawling at Lucien to watch how a real male would claim his mate._

“ELAIN!”

Azriel roared shuddered through her, ripping her from her nightmare, bringing her back into reality. Into his room.

               The shadowsinger was crouched above her on the bed, his wings flared at the imagined danger. His face was lined with fear bordering on panic. His breaths laboured.

               “Elain,” Azriel breathed, lowering his forehead to meet her own.

               Elain whimpered, drawing away from his touch – from any touch – and Azriel pulled back, a heartbreaking understanding on his face.

               Understanding mixed with a lethal rage.

               “He’ll never touch you again,” Azriel swore, the vehemence making his voice firmer than it normally was. His eyes darted from the still healing skin on her arms, to the bruises he knew hid beneath her shirt. “I don’t care if I have to gut him myself, he’ll never so much as look at you again.”

               Elain didn’t cower from the primal fury in his voice – from the cold rage that promised death.

               She just met Azriel’s gaze and nodded.

               Made a decision.             

And reached her hand out to invite him closer.

               Azriel took her hand and slid up the bed to her, pulling her into his embrace as he laid back down, his wings coming around to cocoon then, tucking her even tighter against him as he did so.

               And as his shadows swirled around them, blanketing them both in the safe security of night, Elain drifted to sleep in the shadowsinger’s arms.

~~~

               It was the early light own dawn that next dragged Elain from sleep, rays of light piercing the cocoon of Azriel’s wings. Elain opened her eyes slowly, careful not to stir, and beheld the male before her.

               In sleep, his face was less harsh, though no less beautiful.

               Relaxed – she had never seen him this at ease in his waking hours.

               Even when he maintained his inscrutable mask, his face was tense, every emotion carefully hidden. Never relaxed – not like this.

               And slowly, so as not to disturb him, she raised her fingers to trace the lines of his face, beginning with his jaw, up to his eyes – which she found open and staring.

               She made to snatch her hand back but Azriel’s scarred hand gently captured in, carefully holding her hand against his face as he turned to kiss her fingers. One by one. Then her open palm.

               Elain sighed at the sensation, at the welcome feel of his lips, expelling the touch of another male.

               And so, she pulled his hand to her, placing it on her own jawline, and he returned the gesture, tracing the lines of her face with a tenderness she had never know. Certainly not with Grayson. And never with Lucien.

               But with Azriel, she found that closeness she’d been craving.

               Azriel growled, a low, reverberating sound in his chest, as she bared her neck to him, and he moved closer, ghosting kisses along the line of her neck from her jaw to her shoulder. His hands were in her hair, weaving through the golden locks with ease.

               More – she wanted more – wanted him to touch her, for his touch to replace Eris’, to bury that hurt beneath something, anything else –

               But he pulled back, his hazel eyes searching her face, and he sighed, rolling back onto his back, pulling Elain with him so that she rested in the crook of his arm.

               Elain nuzzled up against him, trying to convince him to continue, not to stop.

               Azriel all but moaned as she kissed his neck, his entire body quivering with restraint.

               “Elain,” he began.

               “I want this,” Elain growled, nipping at his ear. Azriel did moan at that, his hands coming up to clutch her waist. His fingers curling in to the exposed skin he found there, as if he couldn’t help himself.

               “Cauldron damn me,” Azriel growled under his breath. “You have no idea how damn much I want you, Elain. How much I’ve wanted you for _weeks_. But I won’t take you now, not like this, when you only want me to banish his touch.”

               Elain pulled away, the hurt evident on her face, and Azriel propped himself up on his elbow to face her, his eyes searching her face as he spoke.

               “I still want you Elain,” Azriel clarified. “But I want you to have time to heal. To come to terms with whatever it is Eris did to you. I want to know that you’re fully committed to this, that you won’t regret letting me take you to bed.”

               Elain nodded slowly, fighting back the tears gathering in her eyes.

               Azriel reached out and wiped one away, bringing his fingers back to his mouth the taste the salt of her tears. The only taste of her he could allow himself to have.

                Then pulled her close again, cradling her against his body as she wept.

               He held her like that until the pounding at the door started.

               Elain stiffened immediately, fear flashing across her face at the sound. Azriel growled – not in anger, but in annoyance, at the Fae he knew would be waiting at the door.

               Their High Lord and Lady.

               Elain buried herself further into his arms, shaking her head no at his coming question. Azriel sighed and stroked her hair.

               “I’ll send them away,” he murmured softly, rising from the bed.

               His soft foot steps padded down the hall, stopping just short of the door, which he pulled open with a growl.

               “It is the crack of gods damn dawn,” Azriel growled at the waiting Fae – none other than his High Lady and Lord.

               As if he wasn’t normally up and training at this time.

               “Where is she,” Feyre growled back.

               Their next words were a jumble of growls and hushed tones, but Elain caught the end of it.

               “Let me see her Azriel,” Feyre snarled.

               “No,” Azriel replied, his voice strained from the effort of refusing his High Lady.

               “Az-“ Rhys began.

               “I said no,” Azriel growled, cutting of Rhys’ order before he could give it. “She’s resting, she’s fine, and she shouldn’t be disturbed right now.”

               Rhys muttered something, and shortly thereafter the door closed.

               Azriel’s footsteps padded back down the hallway, but not to the bedroom – instead, Elain could hear him in the kitchen, bustling about.

               When the shadowsinger returned to the room, he had a tray laden with food – fruits, toast, cereal, and even steaming oatmeal.

               “I – I wasn’t sure what you normally eat,” Azriel said. “So I, uh, brought everything?”

               Elain sat up and accepted the tray gratefully, the scent of food making her stomach rumble. She plucked up an orange and began peeling it. Azriel watched her with a quiet intensity, his shadows dancing around him in the early morning light.

               “Do you want to talk about it?”

               Elain almost shook her head – almost told him no. But then – the entire story was spilling from her lips, like poison leeching from her body. She told Azriel about Eris grabbing her, how he slapped her, his hands violating her as he paraded her before Beron and Lucien. About Lucien telling her to run. About her nightmare.

               At some point, Azriel plucked the orange from her shaking hands and peeled it, his gaze never wavering from hers as she talked.

               But she could see it – the cold, murderous rage building in his eyes with every word she said. With every crime Eris committed against her – real or imagined.

               Azriel handed her peeled orange back, his face still carefully blank.

               “What do you want to do about it,” his voice, barely more than a whisper.

               Elain shook her head, “I don’t know. Nothing maybe. Maybe more.”

               Azriel nodded slowly.

               Elain pierced him with her own stare, “What would you do?”

               Azriel growled slightly. “I am personally inclined to go back to Autumn and rip the bastard to shreds – slowly – for what he’s done. Not only to you, but to Mor, and to Feyre,” his words were vicious, more growled than spoken.

               Then he sighed.

               “But it’s not my place to decide the punishment of that male – its yours. And Mor’s. and Feyre’s.”

               “I don’t think Mor would mind ripping him to shreds.”

               Azriel smiled thinly, “No, she would not.”

               Elain looked down at the half-eaten orange in her hand. “I think – I think if he ever tried to hurt me again, I wouldn’t mind ripping him to shreds either.”

               Azriel smiled sadly as he pushed the tray out of the way, pulling Elain back into her arms.

               “We’d better keep up with our training then.”


	7. Of Forgiveness and Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Elain finally allows herself to begin healing after the events in Autumn, and embraces her feelings for the shadowsinger. 
> 
> Smut ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fan fiction (length tbd) will explore Azriel and Elain’s relationship after the events of ACOWAR. 
> 
> May feature spoilers for ACOWAR. 
> 
> All characters and names belong to Sarah J Maas.

**Chapter 7: Of Forgiveness and Love**

               Weeks passed – and Elain spent most of them with Azriel. Training with him. Wandering Velaris with him. Sleeping in his bed.

               Healing.

               Lucien asked to visit, and Elain saw him – with the shadowsinger hidden in the shadows of the room – and they both agreed, at last, to abandon any pursuit of the mating bond between them. There was simply too much grief, too much heartache, too much distrust tied to that bond for it to ever survive – never mind thrive.

               And they both knew it now.

               Elain began to tend the gardens at Azriel’s townhouse as well – though she was careful not to neglect her old garden, even if it meant having to subject herself to her sisters’ hovering from time to time.

               Demanding to know when she was coming home.

               And Elain told them the truth – she felt safer with the shadowsinger.

               She felt loved.

               And so, weeks after the incident in Autumn, Elain found herself preparing to climb into bed with the shadowsinger, as she had done nearly every night since Autumn.

               Except tonight she was dressed in navy blue lace. Perhaps dressed was the wrong word – the lace top was sheer, tight on her breasts, then flowing out until just below her waist, covering equally scandalous panties.

               Mor had assured her that Azriel would love it.

               Elain had a feeling he’d love it more once it was off – and blushed at the thought.

               And as she stepped out of the bathroom into the bedroom where Azriel waiting, already lounging on the bed, she knew she was right.

               His focus, always so predatory, went directly to her, his gaze setting her body afire as he took in the exposed curves of her legs, of her breasts. Slowly devouring the sight of her.

               Then he was across the room, his hands in her hair as he scented her.

               “Elain,” Azriel growled, pulling her closer as his hands drifted lower, exploring her body as he had never had the audacity to do.

               Simply because she had never given him the permission before.

               Elain stood on tiptoe to nip his ear, grinning against his neck as he yelped in surprise.

               Azriel returned the favour, nipping gently at her ear before he began to trail kisses down her neck. But when he reached her collarbone, he stopped, looking up at her.

               “Are you sure?”

               Elain nodded, and Azriel grinned before lowering his mouth to the curve of her breast, kissing it tenderly.

               Slowly.

               His kisses were so agonizingly slow, his hands touching the parts of her his mouth hadn’t already set afire, rough against the smooth skin of her torso, of her thighs.

               Elain moaned a bit as Azriel’s fingers flickered against the delicate skin of her upper thighs, the soft sounds drawing a pleased growl from Azriel.

               And he scooped her up, his hands coming together to cup her ass as he did, carrying her towards the waiting bed.

               Their bed.

               He lowered her onto the midnight sheets gently, his eyes roving his body as they finally broke contact. Elain body cried out for more, to feel him against her, but when she reached out for him, Azriel’s snatched her hand.

               “Please,” Azriel’s voice was rough. “I want to – I want to know all of you.”

               Elain dropped her hand.

               Azriel dropped his too – but to Elain’s body, his hands tracing delicate lines and whorls on her torso as he explored her body. With every brush of his fingers, every sweep of his hand, the ache in Elain’s core grew, her need to feel him, to have him growing.

               As if he could see the change in her – or perhaps scent her growing arousal, Azriel growled, his hands tracing lower – lower, to where Elain’s body now cried out for contact.

               And as his hands at last slipped beneath Elain’s scandalous lace panties, she couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped her as he finally – finally – touched her.

               “Please,” Elain begged. More, she needed more. Azriel smiled wickedly as he obliged her, his fingers wringing moans from the female beneath him as he wrought a pleasure she had never known from her.

               And he took his time, slowly building her towards that cliff he knew she would undoubtedly fall off, quivering around him as she cried out his name, her breaths rough and panting as he worked her down from that high. As he tasted her, watching her ravenous gaze as he savoured that taste. 

               And then, as Elain watched, the shadowsinger pulled off his shirt and stepped out of his pants, until he stood bare before her, his wings flared behind him as Elain took him in. As she gulped at the size of him.

               And then she leaned forward to touch him, dragging her finger up his manhood, touching the hard velvety surface of it as Azriel, shadowsinger and warrior to the High Lord of Night, quivered beneath her touch.

               Then Elain sat up and undid the clasps on her own lingerie – only to have Azriel lean forward to help her remove it, and her panties, which he deftly slid of her legs, his hands unabashed about what they touched as they trailed down her body.

               Azriel leaned down as kissed her nipple, then the other, grinning savagely at the cry he elicited from Elain as he nipped at the second. Then he trailed those kisses down her body, well aware of the need once again building in Elain’s core as he scented her growing arousal.

               And then, his eyes locked on Elain’s, he lowered his mouth to her core and sucking gently, his tongue flickering against her. And as Elain cried out his name again, nearly sobbing as pleasure wracked her body, Azriel finally pulled himself up to kiss her mouth.

               To ask one more time.

               “Are you sure?”

               Elain growled impatiently as she captured his mouth with hers, tugging her against him as she did.

               And Azriel slid into her, a groan of his own ripping through the room as he felt the wetness of her. Felt how tight she was around him. Heard her own sigh as they fit together.

               And this first time – her first time – they made lover slowly. Passionately.

               And at last, as Elain quivered and moaned beneath him, Azriel too found his release, roaring Elain’s name as he did.

               Afterwards, Azriel pulled Elain against him, the feel of her bare breasts and sweat slicked skin against his own already having him wanting more. But for now, he simply held her, breathing in the scent of her, relishing in the feel of the female in his arms as they dozed.


	8. Of Dawn and Passion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set the morning after Elain and Azriel consummate their relationship. 
> 
> Some smut and a sassy Cassian included.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fan fiction will explore Azriel and Elain’s relationship after the events of ACOWAR. 
> 
> Features spoilers for ACOWAR. 
> 
> All characters and names belong to Sarah J Maas.

Sunlight filtered in the nearby window, signalling the too soon arrival of the dawn both Azriel and Elain knew had been coming.

               All night – they had spent all night in each other’s arms, exploring one another’s bodies in intimate ways they had never before felt free to do. Tracing the curves of one another’s bodies, the scars on Azriel’s, and the softness of Elain’s.

               Until finally, Elain had felt brave enough to stroke the shadowsinger’s wing, grinning with an almost wicked sort of satisfaction at the reaction it elicited from Azriel.

               And they’d spent plenty of time exploring the far more intimate regions of one another’s bodies as well, leaving them both sweat-slicked and sated.

               But now dawn was here, and with it, the call to return to the world, to –

               “I don’t want to leave this bed,” Azriel practically growled, pulling Elain impossibly closer to him. Elain knew what he meant – though they were not mates, they were fae, and as Azriel had warned, when fae took new lovers – those they actually cared for, not just flings - the outcome was what they both felt now. A deep, insatiable desire for the other. A resistance to being apart. A growing feeling of territorial nonsense for the other.

               “We don’t have to,” Elain murmured softly, snuggling against Azriel’s chest.

               Because if they left the bed, everyone would know. Everyone would know that they had at last tumbled into bed together to do more than sleep. Because even Elain could tell – their scents were now mingled. Not so thoroughly as Feyre and Rhysand’s, or Cassian and Nesta’s, but more than they had been before. And because if they left this bed, they would not longer be intertwined in one another, wrapped in a safety and sense of caring so complete Elain could only describe it as love.

               “Mmmm, I am inclined to agree,” Azriel whispered back, “But Rhys and Cas are expecting me at training. To which I am already late.”

               “Only you insufferable Illyrians would actually choose to wake up at dawn to beat each other up,” Elain grumbled.

               Azriel moaned softly, cursing Elain under his breath.

               Because her fingers had found the sensitive edge of his wing while they talked, where they now traced lazy circles.

               “Sunshine,” Azriel tried, but his protest came out more as a moan, and Elain could feel him hardening against her, could feel his hands re-beginning their own exploration of her bare body. Could feel the moment his protest turned into desire for her again.

               Elain flipped them positioning herself on top of the shadowsinger, then reached down to touch his wings, conscious of the intensity of his gaze as he followed her hands.

               Elain drew her fingernail across Azriel’s wing, evoking a deep, guttural growl from Azriel as his hands dug into the muscles of her back.

               “Sunshine,” Azriel repeated, his growl pleading with her.

Elain smiled wickedly and went to work teasing his wings, going so far as to lean down and whisper kisses across the hard planes of his wings. And all the while, Azriel quivered beneath her, from restraint and from pleasure.

Until finally Elain lifted herself up and slid down onto him, her lips parting slightly as the full length of him entered her, so much deeper in this position than others.

Azriel’s hands found her ass and gripped it tightly as she rode him, gasping with pleasure as she did so.

Elain leaned forward, stretching forward to capture Azriel’s mouth in a passionate kiss. The shadowsinger ran his hands along her back, and slipped them between them to tease at her breasts, to move her against him, increasing the friction she so desperately desired.

Until Elain was all but panting.

“Don’t stop,” Azriel growled, his own voice deep and rough with lust. Elain merely moaned again, the fire in her core nearly unbearable as she moved along him, needing more, more, more –

Elain cried out as her climax found her, Azriel’s hands moving her hips as she shuddered in the throes of completion, until he too came beneath her, his hands digging into her waist, his growl a rough semblance of her name.

 

“I may never hear the end of this, you know,” Azriel mumbled some time later. His hands were weaved into Elain hair, his fingers absent-mindedly toying with her flowing locks.

“Something tells me that once you pound Cassian into the ground a few times, he may give up joking about it,” Elain mused, the vision of the two Illyrians having danced into her head sometime after their own bout.

And, as if summoned by Elain’s words, the Commander began pounding on Azriel’s door.

“Az, I do not care how good Elain is in bed, we have a damn training session,” Cassian bellowed.

Elain flushed slightly, but Azriel merely leapt out of bed and flung the window open, leaning out of it to bellow back at Cassian.

“Big mouth for someone the seer says I’m going to wallop in a minute,” Azriel yelled back. “Besides – who are you to talk? I seem to recall you vanishing for a full week after you mating with Nesta.”

Cassian bellowed some likely snarky remark that was punctuated by Azriel slamming the window shut again. He turned to face Elain, who had propped herself up in the bed to watch him.

“You should go,” Elain said.

Azriel smiled faintly.

“Will you go to the garden?”

Elain nodded smiling slightly as Azriel pulled her out of bed to tuck him against her, albeit standing up this time.

“I’ll find you there later,” Azriel murmured planting a soft kiss on her head before he turned away. 

"Azriel?" 

"Sunshine?" 

"I love you," Elain murmured, and immediately found herself in Azriel's embrace again. 

"I love you too," he murmured into her hair, and Elain could feel his smile as he did. 


	9. Of Sunsets and Blooms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Elain shares her feelings with her sisters, and Azriel returns from training.
> 
> This will be the final chapter for this fic, but don't worry - there's plenty more Elriel where this came from!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fan fiction (length tbd) will explore Azriel and Elain’s relationship after the events of ACOWAR. 
> 
> May feature spoilers for ACOWAR. 
> 
> All characters and names belong to Sarah J Maas.

Elain sang to herself as she tended the garden at Rhysand’s townhouse, flitting about the garden. It had become somewhat unruly since she had begun spending more and more time with Azriel, preferring the uninterrupted peace of the shadowsinger’s once barren gardens over the constant buzz of activity that lingered around the townhouse occupied by the High Lord and his Lady.

               But Elain could never bring herself to abandon it entirely.

               Even if she knew tending to it would inevitably draw her sisters to her.

               And, like moths drawn to a flame, arrive they did, their approach signalled only by their soft footsteps.

               “Elain,” Feyre said by way of greeting, her voice soft and gentle.

               Nesta said nothing, as was her prerogative.

               “We thought since the boys are busy pounding each other into the ground – or more accurately, receiving the beating of their lives from Azriel since apparently they’re incapable of keeping their fat Illyrian mouths shut – we could talk,” Feyre suggested, sliding into one of the many wrought iron chairs scattered around the garden.

               Nesta followed suit.

               Elain simply turned around and lowered herself from her crouch into a seated position, facing her sisters.

               They made for a fearsome pair. Feyre, the first High Lady in existence, her status only an amplification of the powers the High Lords had unintentionally bestowed her. And Nesta, ever the stoic, impeccable one, her face as unreadable as a slab of stone, her powers as unruly as the Cauldron she stole them from.

               “You’re sure, Elain?” Feyre asked, breaking the silence.

               “I’m sure.”

               “And Lucien?” It was Nesta who spoke, breaking her silence at last.

               “You never liked him, Nesta,” Elain countered softly, though she knew her sisters could her the soft growl rumbling in the back of her throat.

               “I didn’t – I didn’t understand what it was to be Mated before,” Nesta acquiesced. “And now that I do, I need to know that you understand the implications of what you’re letting go.”

               Elain sighed.

               “I don’t expect either of you to understand. But being Mated to Lucien was never an option for me, not really,” Elain explained. “From the moment that he claimed me as his, I felt like just that – his. As if I had no choice. I had lost everything – my humanity, Grayson, my home. And then it felt as if I may lose myself as well. And then with everything that has happened, with the war, and with Lucien, and in Autumn, we both know that nothing could ever come of the bond. Nothing good, anyways.”

               Feyre nodded as she smiled.

               “Lucien is not a bad male – far from it – but I saw and I understand the mistakes he made,” Feyre agreed. “And no female – regardless of who they are – should ever have to settle for less that they deserve. For Rhysand and I – and for Nesta and Cassian – the Mating Bond worked, but I know that is not always the case.”

               Elain smiled back.

               “And Azriel?” Nesta prompted.

               “Azriel is everything I could have hoped for,” Elain admitted, a small blush creeping onto her cheeks. “He’s kind, and he’s caring, and he’s fiercely protective, but he is not oppressive – he listens to me, truly. And he loves me.”

               A pause.

               “And I love him.”

               Nesta smiled then too, a break in the façade she always so carefully maintained.

               And as they discussed love and wingspans, the sisters laughed as they hadn’t in months.

~~~

               Later, as the sun began to set, Elain found herself tending the garden at Azriel’s, when she felt him approaching.

               Or rather, smelled him.

               “Azriel, I may love you, but you smell like something dead,” Elain called over her shoulder.

               A dark laugh was his only response as his shadows crept forward to wrap around her, his arms intertwining with them as he pulled her close.

               “Perhaps we should remedy that,” Azriel murmured in her ear, his breath sending chills down Elain’s spine. And then, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to her, his hands began their silent exploration of her torso, making lazy patterns along the exposed skin near the hem of her shirt.

               “Azriel,” Elain breathed.

               “I do believe I need a bath,” Azriel murmured. “Care to join me?”

               “I imagine it’s quite hard to get everywhere with those wings,” Elain managed.

Azriel chuckled again and began to maneuver them to the bathroom, and the waiting bath. In a tub big enough for two.

“Rhys had one commissioned for their townhouse, and Cassian and I could hardly pass up the opportunity for more wing room,” Azriel explained lightly, though the way his gaze undressed Elain told her exactly why he’d gotten a new bath tub.

And under that gaze, Elain shrugged off her clothes, piece by piece, until she stood naked before the shadowsinger.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” Azriel’s voice was hoarse as he took her in.

Smiling softly, Elain stepped into the tub, slipping in to the steaming water.

Azriel couldn’t get out of his leathers fast enough, his eyes never leaving Elain as he tossed them aside and clambered in behind her, pulling her against his waiting hardness.

Azriel groaned slightly into her ear as she pressed closer to him, his hands gripping her hips.

“Elain, sunshine, has anyone ever told you how absolutely marvellous you are,” Azriel murmured, his hands slipping upwards and downwards simultaneously.

As he pinched her breast and pressed on her center at the same time, earning him a startle moan from Elain as he began to pleasure her.

“How simply gorgeous you are?”

Elain bit back a moan as Azriel’s hands continued their perusal, and Azriel growled at the sight of her head rolling back on his shoulder, seeing her teeth biting at her lip.

“Let me hear you, sunshine,” Azriel growled.

And then he slid his fingers inside her and Elain whimpered at the sensation, at the pleasure he was crafting as his hands and mouth explored her body.

“I love that sound,” Azriel growled.

Elain moaned again, if only to release some of the pressure building in her core.

“Scoundrel,” Elain snarled, earning a growl from Azriel as he pushed harder, drawing her even closer to that edge she wanted.

Until she fell off it, crying out Azriel’s name as she writhed against him, the water churning in the wake of her climax.

Panting, Elain turned on Azriel, positioning herself so they were chest to chest. And as she captured his mouth in a kiss, she lowered herself onto him, nearly gasping at the feeling of him inside her.

“I spent too damn long at training,” Azriel growled, voicing Elain’s own thoughts as she rode him.

It was the last coherent thing he said before Elain reached her hands up to pleasure his wings, an action which left the shadowsinger groaning for more, and more, and more.

Until he roared her name and came with her.

Afterwards, they tumbled into bed, not nearly sated, already beginning to yearn for the other.

“Will it ever stop, this need?” Elain breathed as Azriel laid her down on the bed with heart-breaking gentleness.

“Not so long as you’re this beautiful,” Azriel countered, earning a laugh from Elain.

“You’re a shameless flirt,” Elain groaned, but there was laugh behind her words.

“Only for you.”

A simple statement, but it was a promise too.

A promise that so long as they loved one another, nothing would come between them.

That so long as this love between them bloomed, not even darkness would cause their love to wither.

And so Elain smiled and pulled Azriel closer.


End file.
